My Psychosis
by qtkitten13
Summary: Justin found that magic couldn't mend a broken heart - or cure schizophrenia. Jalex.
1. Prologue

My name is Justin Russo and I have a problem. I don't want to go into too much detail because it's too painful for me to admit, but I will admit it eventually. I just think that you need to hear the whole story, from the beginning. But while I'm telling this story, I want you to do a few things for me. First of all, I want you to not interrupt me. Some things may come up that are a little bit... well frankly some people find them vile and contemptuous , nevertheless do not say anything until the story is over. Then I promise you, you will be allowed to spew your wretched hatred all over this poor soul, however the second thing I ask of you is that you understand that _this is not my fault_. Maybe you'll disagree, but at least keep a mind open enough to believe that the events as they unfolded were a product of environment, actions of others and thrice-cursed biology.

This knowledge, living with what I have done, is driving me mad. It's not exactly guilt – though I think I ought to feel guilty and perhaps it's all the worse that I don't. No, this emotion is more like...nostalgia, but of a painful variety that teases you when you're lying in your bed late at night, reminding you of something so forbidden and enticing at the same time – something you may never have again. At the same time, I fear discovery. How someone could find out about the disturbing things I did, I do not know. Besides me there was only one other witness and I believe that she is just as likely to want to keep it secret. I have no idea if she's told anyone – I know I haven't. Nevertheless I await that time when I will be awoken by the sudden explosion of my door, drug away, interrogated and beat. By whom, I do not know. In my fantasy there are always two of them. They wear gray suits. One of them is always a six foot tall man so muscled that he's almost three feet wide at the chest. The other varies from a relative clone of him (albeit sometimes another race), to a petite blonde woman. Another unchanging detail is that they both have stone-cold faces, chiseled out of granite or ebony. They are merciless enforcers of an unknown agency.

And I feel like I am being watched. Until that fateful day when I am taken away (and with mercy, killed!) I constantly look over my shoulder. I walk down hallways sideways so that I can quickly switch my vision from up the hall to down it. I always sit with my back to the wall and when walking down the street I half-expect to be stopped short in my tracks by a well placed sniper. Oh if only! Death's sweet release could end this in less than a heartbeat.

But no, that wouldn't be fair to her... oh God, perhaps the only thing worse than the anxiety is the love. For that to be ended! It is far more painful than you read in poetry or literature, even those works which paint it in an agonizing light. Love is more like being nauseous all the time, feeling like one has to throw up constantly but never actually doing so. Even if you did - and I have forced it at times - it doesn't make the feeling go away.

Then again, maybe it's only the person I love who causes it...and even then it's only because of what others would think. When I am actually with her, the nausea subsides, though the paranoia never totally dims.

By now, your curiosity has either been piqued or you've stopped. Well, I hope for your sake you've stopped, but I know that if you're reading this you haven't and you want to hear the rest of the tale. Well sit down, it's a long story and it involves incest...


	2. Day like any other

"Justin," my sister said one day that was really like any other day, although all that would soon change and it would become both the best and most bizarre day of my life up to this point. It was around 10 in the morning on what promised to be a fine summer day, and we were seated around the table eating random breakfast cereals, to each his or her own favorite kind. Mine was a bowl of plain wheat-shreds, while Max had something full of sugar and marshmallows. Alex had something moderately between ours, filled with whole grains but containing honey roasted nut clusters as well. Perhaps they were all reflective of our personalities, as though they were distinctly chosen by some governing force to make a comment. That hadn't occurred to me at the time, if anything I felt that our personalities dictated our choice in favorite foods, but since then I have come to believe that there could be some agency or entity carefully watching and manipulating us for its own alien and unfathomable purposes, whether they are benevolent, malevolent or simply completely apathetic. And I, even though I am a _wizard,_ am completely unable to master this force, for it holds everything on the tip of its nigh-omnipotent fingers. The best we can do is hope that we please this being and it leaves us alone. But I digress.

"Yes?" I had replied automatically. I wasn't really too engrossed with my sister at the moment, I was busy comparing and contrasting _Animal Farm_ and _1984 _in my head, and in fact I had probably barely noticed that she had said anything at all.

"Would you pass the milk?" Again I had reacted without thinking, passing her the gallon 1 that was nearing empty. Mother would have to pick up more sometime soon, probably today. She seemed to shop a lot, the poor dear. I'd offer to help her, but today was Tuesday and dad would be giving wizard lessons. Naturally I would have be focusing on the homework that would result, because unlike Alex I take the eventual competition between her and I seriously. (I discount Max, no one takes him seriously.) Given that this would occur in the future, in fact in the near future as I approached 18, I felt a certain animosity toward her as a rival at the same time I felt the love of a sibling. How all that would change in just a few short hours, though I of course had no knowledge of that at the time. It is commonly said that in retrospect all things are clear. I honestly still don't believe it, personally, but at least I could see some of the signs.

"So what do you have planned for today?" I asked, either trying to be cordial or still performing ritualistic behaviors that were socially expected of one in this position. She tried hard to act apathetic – too hard, in fact. At the time I hadn't seen through it, of course, but now it's so obvious. The sigh and excessive eye-roll were nice touches, but she couldn't keep her eyes from brightening slightly as she looked right at me. 'Brightening', such a cliché poetic term. I suppose by that we actually mean that the pupils dilate to let in more let so that they can see the object of their affection better. I suppose saying "muscles in her eye relaxed, causing her pupil to dilate" just isn't as Romantic, despite being a more apt description of the event.

"You know, stuff," she responded in that casual non-committal way of hers, with a brief shrug that caused her waterfall of glossy black hair to cascade down her shoulders. Even at the time I didn't know what she was about to say, nor did I have any idea about how I was going to feel in a few days' time, but even I, her brother by the full blood, had to admit that the effect was vaguely arousing. In retrospect, I'm surprised something hadn't occurred sooner. My sister was actually quite beautiful, a fact that I had suppressed my whole life, and would continue to ignore until a few days later.

I have to admit that I feel I am quite open minded. This is quite fortunate, for if I were not than events would have transpired in a rather separate direction, and it would have left Alex much sadder, but possibly wiser. Egad, would that were I the wiser one! But no, it is too late now. I no longer wish to be wiser if that would mean giving up such extraordinary happiness, for in the end of things I have to say that though the events as unfolded has left me a nervous wreck, a mere shell of a man barely able to function without heavy magical intervention, the joy I have found in this has greatly made up for that. Though I spend my waking hours looking over my shoulder and behind bushes, believing myself to be being followed and watched by some unknown agency or entity, about which I know little – only that it is either malevolent or uncaring and amused. It might be the mundane government, it might be the magical council, or it could even be aliens. I don't know, but I fear any of them. Still I refuse to give up this course of action! I have made my decision, weighing it against all society's mores and taboos, and I have given them the proverbial finger!

"What kind of stuff?" I asked. Although I wasn't trying to push the issue, I was genuinely curious. Surely she realized that she had wizard work to do today, and I was hoping to slide the topic of conversation to that, such that I may be, as always, the doting elder brother (ha!) who was at least trying to look out for his little sister. I realize that you may not have the same view of me, but that's largely because the tales you have heard are very Alex-centric and play up our rivalry at least as much as our love. Indeed, I find that while the very essence of any situation you may have heard involving me and Alex is that of showing our love and care for one another, this part is often played down in the retelling in favor of the conflict, which makes for the far better tale.

"Eh, wizard lessons first I suppose," she said, perhaps trying to placate me, or maybe be sarcastic with me. Either way, at least she knew the importance of placing this first in any list she would give to me or our loving-but-authoritative father, although she did have almost complete control over the paterfamilias. Still, the one area in which he was the most strict would have to be our magic lessons, and he wouldn't let her skip them often. "Then some shopping with Harper."

Ah yes, Harper. The quintessential "bee eff eff," which every young girl needs. Incidentally, reports of her crush on me have been grossly exaggerated. In fact, these feelings she is portrayed to have for me are only a convenient way to illustrate another crush which would be impermissible to discuss in polite company. Only I will tell the full, real story, which I promise I will get to forthwith.

"By the way," she said after this, by which I was rather surprised. I had expected her to be terse with me as usual, and furthermore, what could she be adding that she needed to introduce with the phrase 'by the way'? It was quite a conundrum, one which I was sure would be solved post-haste simply by listening to the rest of her comments. "You know the wizard homework due Thursday? Could you help me with that later on?"

It was quite odd of her to ask for help, on wizard homework or anything else. Especially from me. Perhaps I should have seen this as an odd sign, but being who I am (oblivious!), I simply said "Oh, of course."


	3. Mundane to the last

I realize it has been a while since I've updated this chronicle. I've been hesitant to go on – while the other chronicle appears on television, I can swear that the producers have been dropping subtle hints to my own tale, the one filled with more truth than theirs. Not that the romanticized version is terrible. Their artistic interpretation of HJ Darling's books that are essentially, about us, is rather good. Of course, even they leave out an important aspect of the relationship between my sister and me.

But on that day, the one where Alex asked for help with wizard homework, I had no idea what was to come. I didn't know what was about to transpire, and in effort to show you just how oblivious I was to it, I'll tell you what I did before wizard lessons at 2 o'clock, and then again until 7, when Alex was going to come back from her day of shopping and girlish fun (Although, not too much girlish, those of you familiar with either Ms. Darling's books or the televised adaptations know how Alex can be a bit of a tomboy.)

After breakfast, I went up into my room and organized it a bit. Contrary to popular belief, I am not always completely tidy. I honestly don't know how a room gets messy, but papers will build up, and occasionally clothes. I did have the responsibility to clean it up though, even without the pressing influence of my mother. Of course, my action figures are always completely organized, as are my English Monarchs and Statespeople trading cards. (The latter of which has never, as far as my knowledge is concerned thus far, made it into either chronicle.) I had been attempting to design a storage system for them such that I could easily sort them either lexicographically or by card rarity, and there were a few binders full of them attesting to this. After tidying the room, this is what I worked on.

Without building some sort of sorting contraption, getting the cards into any kind of order wouldn't be extremely easy and I regretfully turned back to the idea of keeping them lexicographically with indices, and then keeping a master index. After that I could enter all of the relevant information into a spreadsheet program, sort however I wished and then used the given index as a key to find the card in question. This would also let me sort by any other arbitrary statistics I wished, such as birth date, election/succession date, or anything else of which I could think. It would take some time to enter all the data of course, but once the system was in place, hopefully adding new entries wouldn't be too difficult as long as I kept open index locations for cards I didn't have yet (since a master list could be retrieved from the company.)

The other issue was to address duplicates, however. I had been keeping them in a separate binder in no particular order, but from here I began to sort them again such that each card was in lexicographic order and included an entry for copies in the spreadsheet.

I do hope you'll forgive me for going on about this extremely mundane operation, but you must understand that it was a pet project of mine, and my current state of mind makes it much easier for me to focus on such trivialities.

This took to about noon, and though I had eaten breakfast about two hours prior, I now descended for lunch. Alex had the 10 to 2 shift in the sub shop, while I had the 3 to 7 shift. Between 2 and 3 was of course our wizard lesson, as this was traditionally a slow time, given that only people eating late lunches tended to come in. Mom could handle all the customer traffic for that time period. 10 to 2 included lunch, however, and 3 to 7 had dinner, so typically we had at least three people working then.

Noon is our busiest hour, although it wasn't too awfully busy today. Light enough, anyway, that I decided on a sandwich from the shop for lunch.

"Hey Alex," I said, not detecting the slight blush and far-off look she tended to get when I spoke to her, at least these days. Perhaps it didn't occur before. I don't know, I wasn't looking for it. I was, as I have said, not very aware of anything strange.

"What do you want?" she said in that callous way of her, recovering quickly and not revealing herself any longer.

"Turkey club on rye," I said, intoning a polite manner of speaking indicating that I would be much obliged if she would perform this one little favor for me.

"Get it yourself," she replied with a slight scoff at the end, which I am told many guys find quite endearing in a sort of off-hand, far-off way. It is true that my sister has had a few boyfriends, though she is not considered one of the most "date-able" girls. It is a shame because she is really rather attractive. At this moment in history though, she was single.

"All right," I said, putting on an apron for cleanliness and going to wash and sanitize my hands thoroughly. Alex rolled her eyes exaggeratedly. I expertly made the sandwich in record time, turkey and bacon, provolone cheese and just a little bit of ranch dressing. After producing the delicatessen delight I stood back to admire it because it was clearly the greatest work of culinary arts ever produced in a sandwich shop.

"Weirdo," Alex said, seeing this, tossing her light head back slightly. (Have I mentioned how strange it is that nothing had happened between us earlier? Moments like this, reflecting on it, seem to have come up a lot. Even in the chronicles, you can find such hints at something more than familial going on.)

The rest of the day passed rather uneventfully. I shall skip directly to wizard lessons at 2 o'clock.

The lesson was on the conservation of magical energy. I recall it because the subject matter was fascinating, since magic always seemed to me to be less scientific than that. But I knew that a lot of the magic power was produced much like a power plant, which is largely because it is difficult to get from natural sources these days. Although this wasn't impossible, and part of the lesson touched on gleaning magic from such sources in an emergency. We also learned how to store magical energy in gemstones.

"Emeralds make excellent storage devices for magic," Dad said while Alex laid her head down on the table.

"Ugh," she groaned, a little too loudly.

"Alex, are you paying attention? There's going to be a test on this, you know."

"Yeah...emeralds, magic, right," she said vaguely.

Dad then continued teaching. I took copious amounts of notes.

The period of time after that was also uneventful. After my shift, I went upstairs and knocked on Alex's door. She opened it.

"Hey Justin," she said.

"I'm here to help you with your wizard homework, as you asked," I said, my notebook and pen in hand. Alex closed the door behind me, and then, to my surprise, locked it.

"Justin," she said, more evenly than I would have given her credit for had I at the time known what she was about to say. "I don't actually want to do wizard homework."

Of course, when it comes to common sense the intellectual are surprisingly lacking. On the other hand, you really can't blame me for jumping to the conclusion I did. "So you want me to do it for you, eh?"

"No, it's not that. I just... I need to talk. You'd better sit down for this." I sat on her bed.

"Justin, I think I'm in love with you."


	4. Shock!

Dear readers, I realize that this doesn't seem much like Alex. I too was surprised. Yet it is true that in most fictionalizations of our relationship, it is Alex who first expresses her love for me, usually because it makes more sense. Although I personally did not at the time acknowledge loving her, it would look bad if I was the one to admit love to her because being the older brother, I am in a position of some authority, and it would be an abuse of that authority to try anything. So lest the tale look coercive on my part, most of the works you will find do start with Alex loving me.

I apologize for the aside. But needless to say, I was dumbfounded. I wasn't quite sure what she meant at first, so I said something about that.

"In love?" was what I had said. "As in, not like a brother, but more like a... a boyfriend?"

"Yes. Very good, you grasped the concept, somehow," she said in that dry, familiar tone of hers. She began pacing. "I dunno what to do, I mean, I've felt it for a while but like... I dunno. I shouldn't have told you, should I?" she stopped pacing and looked at me.

"What? No – I mean, I can't say I reciprocate those feelings but well... I ... you're my sister you know that?"

She blushed a deep, uncharacteristic pink. "I _know_. I know we can't... there's no hope of anything like that but...I dunno, I wanted to get it off my chest. I'm sorry."

"Really, it's quite flattering, even from my sister," I said. Now again dear reader you probably feel that this is an absurd reaction to news that should be shocking, scandalous and rather distasteful. But at the time I hadn't really grasped the full gravity of the situation. It was still surreal, abstract. Plus, she knew, and I knew, that nothing could ever happen. Or so we thought, but I will come to that.

"OK... good. Can we.. try to get along as though this never happened?"

"Yes, that would be the most prudent thing to do, I believe."

I turned to leave, and then was tapped on the shoulder by Alex, so I turned back.

"One more thing actually, before we forget it."

"What's that?" I said.

She kissed me. She wrapped her arms around my neck, tilted her head 23.5 degrees to my right, which I remembered because it is the tilt of the planet on its axis, as though she were moving to align herself with the poles, and put her lips to mine. They were soft and moist, and reflexively I opened my own lips about 2 centimeters in order to achieve maximum surface area contact as well as to allow entry of her tongue, smooth, small and dexterous it darted ever so slightly in my mouth. Kissing her was like eating the forbidden fruit – illuminating and shameful at the same time. The very knowledge of how wrong it was magnified how tremendous it felt – I don't know, it's hard to explain why terrible things feel so good. Perhaps, reader, you cannot know unless you involve yourself in an incestuous relationship of your own to see what it's like. On the other hand you also have to still possess the frame of mind that allows this to not be an entirely vile thing. Perhaps the fact that my sister is very beautiful helped me to somewhat accept it, at least in that moment. Indeed, the actress chosen for the televised chronicles is an excellent choice. I might only say my sister is slightly more beautiful, but I am admittedly biased.

In short, it was amazing. It was the sort of kiss that I didn't believe in – the sort of feeling that I felt like was only in fairy tales, or was an exaggeration. Despite having kissed Miranda many times, I had never felt something extremely magical and special with her. I thought she was a wonderful girl and kissing her was very nice, but for me it was more about the expression of the love, in addition to being kind of fun. It wasn't the heart-pounding, hot, steamy, yet somehow somewhat spiritual experience that I felt now, with my sister.

"OK," she said, after finally letting go. "Now we can forget it."

But I knew then that at least I couldn't.

That night as I laid in bed, I tried to get to sleep, but I couldn't. Normally I think about things like my magical studies, or my next Dungeons and Gargoyles character. But that night, the only thing that was on my mind was Alex. Specifically, that kiss. I replayed it again and again, wondering how it could have happened, wondering how she could have felt that without me knowing. I replayed it again and again, wondering what it meant that I was dwelling on it, and finding it strangely pleasing, and somehow wishing it wouldn't be the last time that happened. That may have been a mistake. At no point, during that night, did I realize how strange it was.

In the morning though, I did. Or at least, I realized it more. My sister was in love with me. My sister of the full blood. This was wrong, and dirty, and terrible. I needed to do something about it, and yet, I didn't know what. She had already agreed to forget about it. I decided that I should do my best not to think about it, and go on with my daily life.

That was difficult – for both of us. I could tell by her constant furtive glances that she was thinking about me as much as I was of her. I was worried she was paying too much attention to me, in fact, and that our parents would be suspicious of something. But who would ever guess something such as that? Incidences of sibling incest are not that common, because they are one of the most consistently taboo things in any culture anywhere, ever. Even in Japan. I cannot stress this enough, really.

I have said that this was a story not only about a relationship, but about a result of that relationship. If psychoses can be developed out of circumstances, then I believe it. Then again, it may not be a psychosis if the danger is real. In any event, this was but the mere beginning of it all...


	5. Requited

I absolutely hate getting a new chapter started. The page is blank and it's daunting, and you know you have to fill it up. The actual things you want to say come easily, but where to start? So many thoughts circle around your head like ghosts, and you reach out and grab one, but it slips away. And these ghosts are all shaped like Alex. Anyway, that's why it has taken me so long to write another chapter. That and because it is hard to deal with, hard to think about. The closer it is to you, to your heart of hearts, the more difficult and distressing it becomes. Needless to say, writing this is also dangerous, lest the wrong people find out. Yet, worse than that is, I believe, is the idea that I may not be understood. I am writing this tale so that someone could possibly understand my side of the story, realize my dilemma, and sympathize with me. The psychologist I was seeing, I did not trust to tell of the true cause of my anxieties. Perhaps he would have been understanding, but I didn't take that chance.

Speaking of Japan, as I did last chapter, I have read that there is an old Japanese legend that says star-crossed lovers who died with their love unfulfilled return as siblings in the next life. The fates are cruel. Too awfully cruel. And yet, perhaps not as cruel as society itself. Society lets you be with certain people, lets you love certain people. And true, it depends on the society, but as I said, no society allows incestuous relationships.

Of course, I was not yet in a relationship with my sister. Yes, I did say "yet", because I am dumb enough to actually get into one. It was her idea though, and in fact, I shall directly relate the circumstances.

It was a few days later, and I couldn't sleep. I'd begun to have odd sensations, as though someone were calling for me, but when I listened very intently, I heard no one. I began seeing things flitting out the edge of my vision. And I was still consumed with thoughts of Alex. All this added up to restless sleep, something I would worry about more had it been during the school year. As it was, I was sleeping in more than usual, which my parents chalked up to just being a normal teenager.

Anyway, rather than just lying in bed, terrified out of my mind for no particular reason, I had found it more easy to deal with my current state by getting up and walking around. I walked out of my room and to the kitchen, where I got a glass of milk to help me get to sleep. As I was pouring it, I heard footsteps, and, in alarm, I dropped the gallon of milk.

Whenever I drop something, time seems to slow down for me. I don't know why, perhaps my reaction just speeds up greatly. Yet that cannot be it, because I usually cannot react to do anything other than cover my ears because I hate the loud sound of something hitting the floor. Indeed, I hate loud sounds in general – why do you think I hate vacuum cleaners?

This time however, I was so afraid of disturbing my family that I did react quickly – I cast a levitation spell and kept the jug from hitting the ground. It didn't even spill as I magically set it back on the counter.

"Using magic for mundane purposes? I'm impressed," Alex said, walking into the kitchen in her pajamas. You will note that in most fictionalizations, the chronicles are portrayed as being wrong in her style of night attire. Most of the fictionalizations, in attempt to be sensationalist, have her wearing something skimpy and even somewhat slutty. However, this is far from the case. The chronicles are very close to accurate in their depictions, excepting that they cannot use brand names on them. That is why they never showed the Hello Kitty pajamas that Alex was wearing right now. (Although they did mention a "Hello Pony" blanket – this was of course a pun on Hello Kitty because they could not use the name.) Anyhow, these pajamas are long-sleeved, long-legged and pink and white, with Hello Kitty on the top. However, they were somewhat old, so they were kind of tight and formed an almost capri effect – this also caused her curves to be accentuated, and she very nearly caught me staring when I looked back at the milk.

"I didn't want to spill," I said sheepishly, blushing. "What are you doing up?"

"I could ask you the same thing," she replied, blowing her bangs out of her eyes. She didn't actually need a haircut, it was a style these days, or something like that. As the Pocket Elf once said, I had 80s hair, so I wasn't exactly up on the whole "style" thing. Still, I absolutely love various hairstyles on girls, and that was one that I was ashamed to admit that I liked. Ashamed because hair styles should not matter, and also because my little sister had it.

She approached me then, coming closer. I still hadn't replied. I didn't quite know what to say, as she had caught me at an awkward time, so I let her brush by me (sending a shudder up my spine!) and she got her own glass of milk.

"I, er, couldn't sleep," I managed.

"Me neither," she said, setting down the glass of milk and licking the milk mustache off of her upper lip. I firmly believe it was a calculated move on her part – she seemed to move her dainty tongue slowly around in circles, and I was transfixed as she had turned directly toward me while doing it. I blushed and turned away when I realized what was going on.

"Alex, about that, er..."

"Hmm?" she said 'innocently.' It was a perfect tone of voice to really attract me. It pretended to sound innocent but we all knew that it wasn't.

"Remember when we, um, kissed?"

"It's been hard to forget," she said, walking over toward the couch. I followed her. Why, I don't know, but I did it anyway and now I cannot undo it. She sat down, and I sat on the opposite side of the couch. But this didn't matter to her – she moved over toward me and put her head on my chest. "I think we should date."

"Alex!" I had said in a loud, angry whisper. "We...we can't. We're related! It would be...incest."

"Incest is all relative," she said, dismissively.

"We really can't. There are many rules you break, but this cannot be one of them. This is pretty bad, even for you."

"I know, I'm just a bad girl," she said, sitting up, but turning toward me. "So you're telling me that you don't want this?"

Without warning, she kissed me again. I had a chance, at that point, to pull away, and say "No, I don't want that" and probably, the whole ordeal would be over with. But all I did was relax into the kiss, and then, even worse, I pushed her down on the couch such that I was lying on top of her, before pulling away, a small sucking pop as our lips parted. Alex giggled, but I reconnected my lips to hers, ready to kiss her again.

And that was when I was irrevocably damned.


	6. That fateful night

I realize a few things. For one, I realize that I have been closing every chapter with a single cliffhanger of a line, and that's not fair to me. Yet, reading the last chapter over again, I don't see how I could have ended it differently. What more could be said after that one last line? And I also realize that I have been starting every chapter with an aside like this. Well, I excuse myself for neither of them. Both of these help me to focus in the telling of this macabre tale. Especially starting with an aside like this, because they allow me to focus on something so trivial that it helps me to begin my tale anew in a way, because each chapter is, in a way, a new beginning.

I also realize that Alex does not seem to be acting much like Alex, but I assure you this is not true. Other than the few obvious differences in what you know about her and how she has been acting now, she has been very much her normal self – snide, cynical, teasing. But she always has been and yet she has always loved me, at least as a brother and now, obviously, as more. It wasn't that strange. Have you noticed that the television show is always about me and Alex, and how we fight but still love each other? The movie was even worse, because it was solely about how much we love one another. It is as though our tale was on a train track that could only lead to the inevitable outcome that it did come to, which is, namely, a romantic relationship.

How, you ask, could even a very tight sibling relationship turn into a romantic one? Well, our relationship was never quite just that of siblings. Under every breathe of "I love you" there was a different meaning, as I have come to realize through this ordeal. There has always been a tension there. Siblings do not interact the way we do, though the people who secretly like each other but refuse to admit it do _all the time_.

The point here is that it's not my fault. This is the point of this aside, long as it may be. It is that this was a natural point for our relationship to go to, something that could not be restrained or prevented.

Such thoughts were not going through my head while I was making out with my sister. Alas, nothing was going through my head at all. I merely found it intimate, arousing, and the best make-out session I've ever had in my life. Of course, there wasn't much to compare it to. I believe Alex was actually the same way. She hadn't had too many boyfriends and probably didn't have much of a chance to make out with any of them. Additionally, Alex wasn't the kind of girl to make out with random boys. Dad wouldn't hear of any of it, naturally. He hated Alex having boyfriends. Well if only he could see her now.

What was going through my head was nothing at all. I wasn't thinking, I was merely reacting via a primal and base instinct to perform what was expected of me. I didn't even know I had it in me. I shall spare you the revolting details, of how our tongues danced around each other in a ballet of disgusting depravity, of how our light moans caused arousal in one another, or of how I broke off the kiss and began gently nibbling her neck. I was not paying too much attention, so I cannot describe it in the finest detail. The whole situation was too heady and hazy for that.

"Justin," Alex said as I was nibbling her neck.

"Hmm?" I said, unable to speak properly with her in my mouth.

"Don't give me a hickey, you nerd. It would make dad freak."

"Oh, yeah," I said, breaking away from her neck. "That would be suspicious." I got off of her and moved us such that I was sitting on the couch with her head in my lap. It was only then that the full realization of what we had done hit me, though I was still playing with her hair – her beautiful dark tresses.

"We just made out," I mentioned.

"Mm, yes," Alex replied, closing her eyes and looking for all the world like she could die right now in eternal bliss.

"But, you're my sister," I continued.

Alex sat up and looked at me.

"And I'm your brother," I explained.

"You always were the smart one," Alex said sarcastically. "But you're right...we really shouldn't do this. The question is, do we _want_ to? Justin, you know I've never been much of a rule-follower."

"This is more than a rule, this goes against nature!"

"Shush, and damn nature," she said in a loud whisper. She kissed me again, and I didn't try to stop her. I was in far too deep for that, and moreover I wanted it. I wanted my sister so badly, perhaps worse than she wanted me. I wrapped my arms around her, and I could tell she liked that. We broke off too soon, though yet had a millennium passed it would be too soon for me.

"We should get back to bed," she said, turning around briskly, straightening out her pajamas as she went. I didn't go back immediately. Instead I sat on the couch, thinking.


	7. How it goes

**(A/N: Thank you so much for the reviews! I really hope that I address all the areas in which you think I could improve, in this chapter. I think you're going to like how it turns out though.)**

It was the next day that my troubles really started, the troubles around which this entire story really revolves, or rather, builds up to. Though I eventually went to bed and though I was rather tired from what I had just done, I still didn't feel like I had a very restful sleep, despite the fact that I did get to sleep rather quickly after that. This, however, was not the cause of it.

At breakfast the next morning the whole family was gathered. What was it, a Thursday? Friday? I barely remember. But I do remember something my mother said.

"So Justin, Alex, I notice you two have been fighting less," she had said. My heart started beating at twice the speed it should, and I hoped she wouldn't notice how hot and flustered I had gotten. Alex, herself, gave a little cough and I sincerely hoped that nothing had been given away. Alex was devious though, it was unlikely that she would let any secrets out. In fact, I had to be more wary of myself.

"Ugh, it's summer," Alex said. "I'm exhausted from a whole school year of making fun of him. I need a break." She punctuated this last sentence with a bite of pancakes. Good, crisis averted, for now. Still, I would need to have a talk with her. After breakfast we met each other in the lair, and she sat down, looking hurt.

"What'd I do?" she said, innocently, in that manner only she can.

"Nothing, it's just... well we don't want anyone to get suspicious of us, do you think maybe we shouldn't..."

We hadn't actually mentioned anything about starting a relationship, had we? Well, Alex had asked, but I had only replied by letting her kiss me. Were we in a relationship?

"You know... date."

"So we are dating?" Alex said. "Because I wasn't sure if making out with me was a yes or not," she said smugly.

"Alex! This is serious..."

"Look, Justin," she said, also getting uncharacteristically serious and rising from the chair. "Whether we date or not it won't stop how we feel, right? And I mean, that's really the thing... if mom and dad find out about that, even, it'd be just as bad as finding out we've been going out behind their backs."

I wasn't sure I saw her reasoning, but she did have a point. Especially now that we had already made out, going out with her couldn't be that much worse. Of course, this is a slippery slope. How many times do I find myself saying "Well it's not _that_ much worse"? Until I get to hell, apparently.

"OK, but," I began, but was cut off by her kissing me. Suddenly we heard someone coming down the stairs and we bounced away, blushing and worrying.

It turned out to be Max, who, as you know, isn't the sharpest tool in the shed. For this, we were both relieved. "Hey guys," he said. "Here early for the magic lesson?"

"Max, there is no magic lesson today," Alex reminded him.

"Oh, then what are you doing down here?" he said.

"Ah, we are, um, conducting an experiment," I had blundered my way through.

"Oh, cool, but I don't see an aircraft carrier anywhere," Max responded.

"The experiment was," Alex picked up after me. "If we were down here, would you come down? And Justin's hypothesis was correct! You did! So, props for Justin," she said, heading up the stairs. "Now come on, I think we have stuff to do in the Sub Station."

"You know what hypothesis means?" I called after her, also making my way up the stairs.

I didn't notice what Max was doing, but I soon felt his presence back behind me as we all went into our family's sandwich shop to help out. And let me tell you, it was hellish. Every moment I thought that the customers would see the way that Alex looked at me, or God forbid, if I looked at her. I tried not to, but I also didn't want her to think anything was wrong. She had to know how much of a secret we had to keep this, though. This was more important than the secret that we're wizards! If anyone found out, it would be the worst thing that could ever happen to either of us, ever, in the whole world. I cannot stress this enough! It's a fact that she didn't seem to agree with, she was much too callous with it.

I shall skip over a good period of time, again, this time perhaps a few months. But I can summarize what went on. Alex and I sneaked around behind our parents' backs, making out late at night and times when they were off on errands. At all other times, I fretted. I just knew that this couldn't last. Someone would find out and then the consequences would be harsh. Just how terrible I didn't know, but I had visions of going to prison where big guys would break every bone in my body and force me to do horrendous things. I couldn't sleep, couldn't eat... every time Alex looked at me I swore that mom and dad would get suspicious.

Worse of all, Alex was getting angry at me for my paranoia. She was positively frustrated. At me! I don't understand why she would be upset with me for it. But she was always known for being self-centered. I remember one day quite well.

It was two months after the first time we made out. I had lost count of how many times it had occurred since then, but, when we were alone, Alex approached me, but didn't give me the little peck on the lips she usually greeted me with when we were alone.

"Justin, we need to talk," she said, and I felt sick. No good could come of this. There are no worse words in the whole world than those just uttered by her.

"You've been distant lately, Justin! You don't seem to react much to me anymore. Sometimes I feel like you're just in this for the physical part," she said.

"No, it's not that... it's just, you don't seem to know how secret this relationship has to be."

It was true. School had started and she was bragging to people about her boyfriend. Kind of flattering, but more so worrying. And when I had told her to be careful about it, she just stuck out her bottom lip and made it out as though I were the bad guy here! Imagine that and please tell me that I am not delusional, but that that does _not_ make sense!

"But you always seem to avoid my gaze and you don't even say I love you over the phone," she continued.

"What if someone is listening?" I said, exasperated. "Phones are not secure connections, you know. You should stop telling that to me, you know."

She did that thing again with her lip and I knew that I was in trouble, despite the fact that I was obviously in the right here.

"Please, don't! You know I love you, it's just..." I waved my hand vaguely and she sighed.

"I know, I know," she mumbled, tears falling. "It's just that I get so jealous when you talk about the weather lady or anything."

"Well how do you think I feel when you talk about how you and Dean used to do this and that?"

"Justin, you're the one at fault here!" she cried.

"How?" I demanded, not understanding her logic at all. Just then, Max walked from the Sub Station downstairs into the loft, where we were having this discussion.

"Max," I said, trying to calm down. "I didn't see you there."

"It's all right, continue your little lover's spat," he said. "I'm sure you two will make up and be back to making out on the couch soon enough." He wandered off to the refrigerator and opened it.

"Um, Max?" Alex said. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Oh come on, I'm not _dumb_. I know you guys have been going out for about two months. We don't have any pudding cups, do we?"

"Max, how did you know?" I can't recall if it was I or Alex who said this.

"It was obvious," he shrugged. "But don't worry, mom and dad don't know."

"Why haven't you told them?" I asked. Alex shot me a glance that said I had said something wrong and I realized then the stupidity of bringing up the point. Still, I was curious, and anything I could do to keep him from spilling the proverbial beans, I would do.

"Meh, I wouldn't mess with your relationship. I like you guys too much," he said, finally getting a Popsicle from the freezer instead.

"OK, Max, then could you continue to keep that a secret?" Alex asked, politely. I for one was relieved, because it got the focus off of the fight Alex and I were having. Unfortunately for me, that didn't last long, because Alex turned right back to me, and said "I'll deal with you later." This did not make me feel any better.


	8. Confused

Alex could be vindictive, but I prayed she didn't do the worst thing she could do, and tell our parents about our relationship. While that would be bad for her as well, it would be far worse for me because, being older and the male, I would be seen at fault, despite the fact that it was she who approached me. Perhaps she was bluffing, or perhaps she was crazy. In any event, I couldn't take that chance. The next time we were alone, I begged her to not do anything, and she sighed, blew her hair out of her eyes again, and then said she wouldn't. We kissed again, apparently on a good side of our relationship once more.

This was horrible. Perhaps I should have taken the chance to end it, or at the very least stop going to quickly. But it was then that she spoke the most damnable words to ever come out of her mouth.

"I love you, Justin."

It was not the words – it was how she had said them. She had never said it like that before, never meant it quite as fully as she had. How she could be so mad at me at the one instant and love me the next, I cannot fathom. Yet I knew as well that she expected me to reciprocate this message of love. For some reason saying so felt like exposing myself, yet I could not lie. I did love her. How, exactly, I was not certain, but dear readers again do not judge this poor soul harshly, and realize the stress I was under. Realize that _at that point_ I fully felt like I loved her. And so I said so, yet this emotional roller coaster was beginning to make me nauseous.

That was the next trouble. In addition to my constant fear of being discovered, I began to grow sick all the time. But not quite to the point where I would actually have to vomit. It was more of a subtle thing that sat on me all day, this queasy and uneasy feeling that would not even go away if I did throw up. I knew it was related to my anxiety over the fear of being discovered. Alas, I could get no relief. I could not very well tell anyone of this, and certainly not my parents, so what course did I have but to attempt to live through it?

Allow me to go back to the day after we professed our love for one another, which was about two and a half months since this sordid affair began. It was from then that I had begun to feel nauseous, and the first symptoms appeared the very next day.

I had made my way down to the breakfast table, intending on something light, like cereal. But even that proved to be too much for my stomach to handle, and I could barely eat. My eyes must have looked weary, too, or perhaps even bloodshot or red and puffy. I hadn't seen myself in the mirror, but I must have looked bad because of my mother saying "Justin, you don't look well, are you sick?" I replied that I was not, I just had a restless night. Alex looked at me cockeyed, but I tried to ignore it.

We walked to school, and since Max was in on our little secret, Alex felt safe discussing in. I didn't – I didn't know who could be listening or watching, especially in public, but Alex was easy to make angry, so I didn't say anything. Meanwhile the fact that she went on merely made me more anxious and more sick.

"Justin, you have got to pull it together! Mom's going to get suspicious," she was saying.

"Don't you think I know that?" I snapped back. This was extremely double-natured of her, to accuse me of being suspicious while doing something so very suspect herself.

"And you don't have to get angry at me all the time," she said, sounding somewhat hurt. I was not in the mood, though.

"Nor do you," I had replied.

"Oh yeah? When was the last time I got angry at you?" she said, stopping and putting a hand on her waist.

"Last _night_, perhaps?" I returned. She looked even more hurt.

"I wasn't mad at you, I was just...frustrated."

How, readers, am I supposed to tell the difference?

"But Justin, I love -"

"Shh!" I interjected. "Someone could be listening!"

"That's ridiculous! Who could be listening to us?"

"I don't know! And I know it's ridiculous, but that doesn't mean I don't feel like we are being watched!" I cried. And it was true – along with this wave of sudden nauseous feelings I seemed to get the notion that _someone_ was watching me. I don't know why they didn't do anything if they were – arrest me, apprehend me, for God's sake kill me, please! but they didn't, and I was left standing here, with her, the girl I loved.

Because despite the fact that she was causing me such consternation, I still believed I loved her. I really can't even say why. Perhaps that should have been a warning flag but at the time I thought it was just an indication of my love being so deep that it didn't need reason. In any event, we walked to school in silence as I had wished, but it was an angry silence – one that I feel she forced on me by giving me the silent treatment. How women achieve the effect of making you feel bad about getting what you wanted in the first place, I shall never know, but it is only further evidence in support of my short-sightedness. Perhaps I still could have given it up there, but unfortunately this "love" I felt for her was preventing me from doing anything.

School that day was interesting, if "interesting" is a synonym for "horrendous." I could not concentrate on anything, and I began to be afraid that if I thought too much about Alex, the government would be able to overhear with their mind-reading technology.

It was at this point that I caught myself and realized how crazy I had actually become. The very notion of it! "Mind-reading technology"... on the other hand, I was a wizard, mind-reading does exist. But the mundane government wouldn't have it, and the Wizard Council wouldn't care that I was in an incestuous relationship with my sister. Would it? I began to sweat bullets at the thought, because the idea of magical detection hadn't occurred to me until then.

"Justin," my chemistry teacher said, sounding worried. "You don't look well, are you all right?"

"Y-yeah," I had managed, although it was a lie and the teacher could tell.

"Are you sure? I think you should go down to the nurse... it couldn't hurt to check."

"OK," I had said. She was right, actually, and the walk might do me good. I knew I could do for a drink of water. She wrote out the hall pass and I took it, hurrying out of there.

On the way there, I saw something I very clearly shouldn't have. In the middle of the hall, I saw Alex standing there, kissing a boy in my grade named Jack Johansen.

I _should_ have been relieved. Think about this for a minute – Alex loving me was causing me no end of distress and if she had moved on I should have been positively _elated_. But, and you will agree with me here, I was not thinking rationally at all. Instead, I felt that basest of all human emotions, that of jealousy.

"Alex!" I cried, forgetting that that would also attract the attention of Jack. He didn't know, of course, about my relationship with Alex – at least, I hoped not. Still, he did look sheepish at getting caught.

"I um, gotta go," he mumbled, and sauntered off.

"For one," I said, coming over to Alex. "PDAs aren't allowed in the hall, for another, you should be in class," I began with the obvious.

"You're in the hall in class," she retorted.

"I... have a hall pass!" I exclaimed, raising the piece of paper as though it were a badge. "Plus, I thought you kinda had a thing with me."

"We do!" she said, pleadingly. "It's just that he really liked me and I couldn't give him a good reason for us not to go out, I mean since I haven't dated anyone lately...plus you haven't been making out with me much recently and I'm used to it..."

Was I strong? Did I finally stand up for myself and my feelings? No! I gave in to her tale. I simply sighed, since that _would_ allay suspicion off of us.

"Fine," I said. "I have an appointment with the nurse." I stormed off.

I arrived in the nurses office in a bit of a huff. She looked almost alarmed and I swore she could hear my heart beating from where she stood. But she took my temperature and saw that it was only slightly above normal. She said that while I did _look_ sick, she couldn't tell if there was anything wrong with me, but I was welcome to lie down in the office for a bit anyway. I decided to take that opportunity. It was quiet in there, and I could think. But I don't know what I wanted to think about. I didn't want to think anything right then, I just kind of wanted to lie down and die. As luck would have it, I did not.

I was excused out of the rest of chemistry, and I went to my next class, calmed down a little bit. I even managed to pass Alex in the hall without looking angry at her, and actually stopped to chat.

"You're not mad?" Alex said.

"No, I mean, if it were a normal circumstance and we didn't have anything to hide I might be, but I can see how you'd be hard pressed," I said. At the time, in fact, I even _actually believed what I was saying_. The psyche is a terrible, treacherous thing.

"Good, I'm glad," she said, smiling that all-too-dear smile at me.

"Yeah, I can't be too mad, the weather lady is on tonight," I said, perhaps teasing Alex just a bit. I thought it was warranted – apparently I was wrong.

"Ugh!" she cried. "I wish you wouldn't mention her! It's just that, whenever you do I get _really_ jealous. You like her better than me!"

I literally had to sit here, with my head in my hand, after writing that, for a few moments. Now I cannot believe that I lived through it. But now, please, readers, can you understand the double standard that goes on here? Can you understand how exasperated I must have been? I just don't understand her sometimes. Perhaps most of the time. But I'm telling you now, that words cannot express how distraught I was over that.


End file.
